


Hey Helga!

by Dxlilith



Category: Hey Arnold!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-19 07:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dxlilith/pseuds/Dxlilith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine years ago, Bob Pataki packed up and took his daughter with him to Portland. Now that he's dead, Helga's back in Hillwood where everything and everyone is the same but not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome Back Pataki

She fiddled with the locket. It was rusty and worn and the gold paint had long since faded. The glass inside was cracked but she couldn’t remember exactly when that happened. It obscured the picture inside. She laughed and went to throw it into the hefty bag lying next to her but found that she couldn’t.

“Helga?”

“In here Feebs.” Helga pocketed the small piece of jewelry.

In the doorway to her old bedroom stood her best friend of thirteen years. Phoebe had long since ditched the glasses and replaced them with lasik surgery. Her long black hair was pleated neatly in a French braid to the side. It spilled onto her oversized denim shirt. She wore leggings with her feet bare against the wooden floor.

“ I finished cleaning out Olga’s room. You sure I can have it? It’s much larger than all the others and this is _your_ house now…”

“It’s fine Feebs, I want ya ta have it.” Helga shrugged, continuing to dig through the box labeled “Helga’s Crap”. It was filled with mostly old journals and chackis she never had the chance to take with her nine years ago.

Phoebe looked on silently as Helga pulled things out of the box and into the trash bag. The Japanese girl sighed and walked over to Helga, taking a seat on the floor next to her.

“I missed you Helga G. Pataki.” Phoebe bumped her shoulders against Helga’s.

“I missed you Phoebe Heyerdahl.” Helga responded by throwing a light punch at the girl’s arm. “But you didn’t hear me say that so forget it.”

“ _Forgetting_.” Phoebe chimed. She sat silently next to Helga, helping her sift through the box. Most things went directly into the trash bag. It wasn’t until they’d come upon an old picture frame that they stopped.

Inside a pink carriage was a tiny baby Helga. Her mother, father, and sister all stood around the carriage smiling in various degrees of indifference. Phoebe looked over at Helga as she clutched at the tacky bronze. “Helga? Are you okay?”

“ See that spot right there?” Helga abruptly blurted out, looking over at the far side of the room. “ Remember the countless nights we’d stay up listening to Ronnie Matthews even after we found out what a fake he was? Or over there? That weird stain? That was from the purple dye I used to ruin Olga’s prom dress. Which, by the way, won the bitch’s crown that night.”

Phoebe bit her lip, eyeing Helga and getting a really good look at her since picking her up at the train station. Helga’s skin was paler than she remembered it but took into account that she’d only see her during summers. Her curly blonde hair was also a lighter color than when she was younger and fell down her back just above her waist. She wore a plaid shirt two sizes too big over a faded pink tank top with the most torn up jeans Phoebe had ever seen in her life; she’d been placing mental bets on when they would unravel all week.

“I guess there are a lot of good memories here.”

“Yeah, and besides, I know you’re probably tired of your parents ridin’ ya for droppin’ med school and still datin’ a colored boy.”

“Helga!”

“Relax.” Helga smiled, letting Phoebe know she was only kidding. She didn’t want to be there. Not now, not ever but she was a twenty-three year old jobless college drop-out with no aspirations other than getting her hands on an ice-cold beer. “Come on Feebs, whaddya say? It’ll be like old times.”

“Well it will be nice to have a place Gerald and I could convene without an ever-looming presence.”

“And by convene you mean fuck.”

“ _Helga_ …” but Phoebe’s cheeks were red and Helga knew she’d hit the nail on the head.

“Hey, long as you put a sock on the door.”

* * *

 

“Yo Arnold! What say we hit Stinky’s for some beers? My treat.”

“Seriously?” Arnold looked down from his spot on the stepladder. He’d been replacing a light bulb when Gerald walked into the kitchen. “ You’re actually opting to pay for something?”

“Yeah man, can’t a dude buy his best friend of twenty odd years a drink?”

Arnold snorted. “What’d you do this time? Indirectly insult Phoebe’s mom’s cat?”

“No!”

Arnold gave Gerald a skeptical look before twisting the bulb one last time. All throughout the boarding house bulbs had been burning out due to recent power surges and all he could do was head over to the hardware store and restock.

“Phoebe’s there with someone from our past.”

“Oh? Who would that be?” Arnold asked after stepping down from the ladder and folding it. He tucked it between the sink and cabinet before turning to face Gerald.

“Guess.”

“Sid?”

“What? No. You know he got three more years left before they even consider parole.”

“Oh yeah…” Arnold scratched his head, remembering that he’d left his hat in the living room. “Rhonda?”

“Now you know that girl is in France for fashion week. She wouldn’t stop talking about it the last two months.”

“Okay then who?

”“I’ll give ya a hint. What’s pink, has a only _one_ eyebrow, and totally wants you.”

Arnold paused, taking a moment to put the clues together.

“Helga Pataki?”

“Bingo. Word is, she’s movin’ into her old place. Dad left it in the will.”

“Bob’s dead? That’s crazy. ”

“Alcohol can do some pretty messed up things man.”

“Wow, didn’t her mom…”

“Yup.”

Arnold watched Gerald shake his head and lean against the dining table. He thought back to the last time he’d seen Helga in Hillwood. It was four summers ago and he’d just enter his third year at Seattle U. The memory a bittersweet one but he smiled and said, “We should probably say hi.”

“Already got that covered.” Gerald produced car keys from his back pocket and jingled them in the air.

“But I look like trash right now. Gimmie a minute.”

“Arnold, that girl used to collect the gum that came out yo mouth, you really think she cares if ya white tee got some stains on it?”

“Shut up.” Arnold swings in Gerald’s general direction but misses and uses the momentum to continue out the kitchen and into the living room for his hat. It’s a dusty blue truckers hat he’d gotten at his first job as a bus boy but just like his old baseball cap, it was a part of him. Then, bounding the steps two at a time, goes up the stairs into his bedroom. He doesn’t spend much time though, opting for just another white tee. He looks over at his mirror. Wiping his jeans of imaginary dirt, he heads back downstairs to meet Gerald outside.

“Ay papi, lookin’ good.” Gerald hollers in a very bad falsetto.

“Whatever man. It’s not like…”

“It’s not like you aren’t in love with her and have been since she left Hillwood and will finally get a chance to confess your feelings for her after so many years apart then make sweet, sweet, unibrow love.”

“Why are we friends again?”

“You needed cool points and I felt bad for your sorry ass.”

* * *

“So Stinky owns this place? Not bad. Not bad at all.”

Helga and Phoebe sat in the very center of the bar, on the dark green stools that matched the dark green walls. The place was packed despite it only being a Tuesday night. There were a lot of faces swimming around that Helga felt she recognized but didn’t want to take the time to figure out. There was music playing out of speakers setup all around but were drowned out by the tv sets showcasing sporting events. The lighting was dim and murky, as if there were a permanent smoke cloud present.

“Indeed. He won it during a game of poker three years ago but it was a total dump. He put in some hard work and ended up with what you see before you now.” Phoebe raised her martini glass, watching for spills as the pink liquid sloshed inside. “To new beginnings?”

Helga searched Phoebe’s expression for some unfound mystery. “Ah, what the heck.” She raised her beer and clinked it against Phoebe’s glass. The two girls shared a smile, each taking a sip.

This was the first time in months Helga had allowed herself to drink. Not that she was some sort of recovering alcoholic but drinking seemed something she held little control over the older she got. _Thanks Miriam._ She thought bitterly as she savored the amber liquid. She sloshed it around in her mouth like Listerine before actually swallowing it.

The last time she’d partaken of a beer in Hillwood was four years ago and she prayed the events of that night not repeat themselves.

“Ladies, the great and wonderful Gerald has arrived.” An arm snaked its way around Helga’s and Phoebe’s shoulder as the aforementioned male snuck in between them.

“Nice to see you haven’t lost those delusions of grandeur Geraldo.” Helga pushed off the offending arm and looked at the man in front of her.

From fourth grade to about sophomore year of high school, Gerald remained the same height. Then in the summer before junior, shot up to six foot three and stayed there. The following years of basketball and track toned his body into the athletic mold and while he had gotten taller, his hair got shorter. It was now low-cut with two swoops buzz-cut in on the left. He wore a red sweater with grey jeans and red chucks. He refused to wear any other shoe.

“Nice to see you’ve learned to tweeze that eyebrow of yours.”

“Lay off Gerald, Helga has always looked good.” Came a voice from behind Gerald. It was relaxed but stern and oh-so familiar. It could only belong to the boy whose picture Helga still had in her pocket.

“I was just messin’.” Gerald smiled, stepping aside and letting Arnold step into the circle. He had one hand in his jean pocket and the other scratching the back of his head in a nervous habit.

“Hey Helga.”

Her mouth was cotton. Dry as a desert. Avoid of moisture completely. She could not have said anything whatsoever in response to Arnold other than staring with her mouth wide open.

“What a crazy random happenstance! Arnold, Gerald, would you care to join us?” Phoebe’s soft voice cut the tension between the blondes. Arnold chuckled a bit and Helga sent her death glares.

“Yeah, why don’t we get a table. Where’s Stinky?”

“I think tonight’s his night off.”

“Night off? Phoebe, he lives above the bar, how far is he gonna go?”

“You make a valid observation dear.”

“Don’t I always?”

“Oy, lovebirds, we gettin’ a table or we standin’ around with beer bottles up our asses?”

“Oh, well. Our table _should_ still be free.”

“Lead the way Feebs.” Helga latched onto the smaller girl’s arm, dragging her out of earshot of the boys. “You sneaky bitch, you planned this all along. I already told you _, I don’t want to deal with people right now_.”

“It’s Gerald and Arnold, not people.”

“Very funny. I can’t _believe_ you did this to me!”

“Oh calm down Pataki, it’s just a casual get together amongst old friends wanting to catch up.”

“Yeah, well the last time I needed to catch up…”

“I know Helga but this is very different from then.” Phoebe sighed. She adjusted her arm so that Helga could hold it instead of yank and led the way to the quieter section of the bar where there were less tvs and more tables. In the far right was an empty booth. Zeroing in on it, Phoebe was the first to slide in, then Helga. Arnold and Gerald came in a little later and slid across from them, both with a beer in hand.

“So, Baby, you officially moving into Helga’s place?”

“Yes. We’ve spent all day cleaning. Isn’t that right Helga?”

Helga burped as way of response, not actually caring how offensive it may have been.

“Good one Helga.” Arnold remarked. He smiled a genuine smile, which only proved to make her feel sick. The best she could give him was a small grimace.

_All I wanted was a cold beer, was that too much to ask for? There is shit in my beer now, actually bits of turd ruining the delicious gold that is this Budwiser and now I’m stuck with two conniving bimbos and Arnold. I know I’ve done things in the past, I do but do I honestly deserve this? I’ll atone for my sins any other way, just please, please, let this night end with my clothes still…_

“Helga!” Phoebe’s shrill voice pierced her thoughts. She looked at the girl beside her, not understanding that she’d just been asked several questions and yet to answer any.

“Must’ve spaced out, sorry. Kinda worn out y’know?” The heads around the table nodded in placid sympathy.

“’I was just telling Arnold here how you’re thinking of renovating the house and he offered his assistance.”

“Yeah, I…uh….I’ve picked up a couple tricks over the many years living at the boarding house.”

“Oh, that uh…” Helga avoided making eye contact with Arnold and took a swig of beer. “ Thanks, I’ll….let you know.” She focused on her almost empty bottle and thought briefly how perfect an excuse to get up and away from the table.

“So Helga, any plans now that you’re back in Hillwood?” Gerald asked, attempting to diffuse the static in the air. He was only here as a favor to Phoebe who begged and pleaded weeks before to help make Helga feel welcomed. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about her but he and Helga never really interacted unless through his girlfriend or Arnold.

“Know where I can get a job?”

“A couple actually. Looking for anything in particular?”

“I ain’t picky. Long as it ain’t hookin’.” She took another swig. _What’s a good excuse to leave right now? Diarrhea? Dysentery? Malaria?_

“Well, if it ain’t Helga G. Pataki in my place of establishment. I reckon I haven’t seen you in damn near _ten years_.” Five feet away from their table stood a tall and lanky man with hair combed back, a white apron over his t-shirt and jeans, and a familiar non-descript accent.

“Looks like it’s one big freaggin’ reunion….yayy.” Helga grumbled, sucking the last bits of foam from the bottom of her beer bottle.

“Well hello there Phoebe, Gerald, and hey, is that you Arnold? I haven’t seen you either. It’s like ya been hidin’ from me.”

“Hi Stinky, how’s it going?” Arnold asked politely.

“It’s goin’ quite nicely Arnold. Can I get y’all anythin’? More beer perhaps?”

“ Bring us a whole round Stinky my man.” Gerald gestured with his now empty beer bottle.

“Right on it. An’ Phoebe, should I add in your usual?”

“Yes please.”

“Be right back.” Stinky wiped his hands on his apron and walked away towards a door not too far from the table.

“So he still talks like that? I thought he went to New York and lost it.” Helga mused out loud, looking to where Stinky disappeared.

“ He did but then he came back, moved in with his dad and picked it right back up.” Arnold answered.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off Helga, even if it seemed like she didn’t want to look at him. She kept turning her head away from him, giving him a perfect view of her ears. He counted three piercings on either lobe, matching helixes, and an industrial on her left.

“Well, some things just won’t change huh Football Head?” Helga realized what she said after she caught Arnold smiling again.

“I guess, it’s not all bad though.”

Helga shrugged, not wanting to continue the conversation. She shot Phoebe a look that pleaded for help and was rewarded with the following.

“Gerald, let’s get some food. I’m starving.”

“Of course Boo.” Gerald stood up from the booth, waiting for his girlfriend to follow. Helga looked at Phoebe and sent her the _meanest_ death glares that she could muster but years of friendship had made Phoebe immune.

“Would you excuse me Helga? ”

“You’re _excused._ ” Helga ground out, stepping out of the booth to give the smaller girl room to leave.

“We’ll be right back. You want anything?”

“Since you _are_ paying, I want anything that used to be alive covered in hot sauce.”

“Arnold?”

“Actually, I’m good. But thank you Phoebe.”

“Okay. We’ll be back soon.” Phoebe slipped her arm into Gerald’s and the two casually walked away.

_Criminey, it’s like this is all some fucking joke to her. Yeah, well the joke’s on you Feebs, I can totally handle myself. And I won’t so much as break a sweat._

“So are you back for good or…”

“Uh…”

“Sorry if I’m being intrusive.”

“Not at all…I uh….I don’t know. But I can’t go anywhere else at the moment so I guess I’m back for a while.”

“Good…that you’re sticking around, not good that you have anywhere else to go.”

Helga shrugged once more, this time giving Arnold a precursory glance. His hair was messy, peeking out from underneath his dusty Al’s Repair hat but shiny like he’d just wash it today. He wore a white tee with a beat up denim jacket that had a very noticeable hole in the only existing breast pocket. She smiled a little, remembering how Arnold clung to clothes like a newborn to his mother.

“What’re you doing with yourself Arnold? Thought you’d be a civil rights activist or a at least one of those liberals occupying something.”

“Well, you know. Life. Or rather death. Grandma died, then a week later, so did Grandpa. They left the boarding house in my name and my dreams of being the next Ghandi went sailing out the kitchen window. Which needs a new screen incidentally enough.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Helga raised her bottle but remembered it was empty so she brought it back down. “Sorry to hear that, about your grandparents, they were really…”

“Old?” Arnold laughed, “Grandma was wind-surfing in a tutu and had just landed ashore when her heart failed. She sang the entire first verse of “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina” before she flat-lined. And grandpa died sitting in his favorite chair at home with a picture of grandma in his hands. He was smiling.”

“Lucky.”

“Yeah.” He smiled softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling in memory of his dearly departed grandparents. “I…uh…heard about Bob.”

“Oh yeah. Out like a light that one.” _Please don’t give me your sympathy Arnold, I don’t need your heart bleeding on me like…._

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s…whatever. He drank himself silly. Serves him right.” Helga snorted, wanting nothing more than to hock a loogie at the mention of her deceased father but chose to steer things away. “He left me the house and some random properties back in Portland. Sold those out soon as I got ‘em and well I’m here. Fixin’ up the old place.”

“Good.” Arnold nodded. He had nothing else to say. He knew Helga was deflecting. “So, uh…do you still write? I heard from Phoebe a while back you got published….”

“Yeah. It was a blip in some literary junk from California.”

“Still a publication.”

“I suppose. You?”

“I…well I haven’t had any _work_ published but I did get a spot on the front page of _Times_.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I got the city to stop the demolition of PS118.”

“Oh yeah, Feebs told me about that a while back. Wasn’t it a health hazard?”

“There was asbestos in the auditorium which could be removed safely but the city wanted to just condemn the entire building.”

“Was it cheaper? I bet it was cheaper to just blow it up.”

“It was.” Arnold sighed.

“There it is. Classic Arnold. Always fighting for the little guy.”

“Someone’s gotta root for the underdog.”

“Arnold, you are the underdog.” Helga snorted.

“I’m okay with that.” Arnold smiles, going for his beer that he hadn’t touch yet. He stares at it for a moment, then slides it across the table.

“Yeah? You tryna liquor me up Shortman?”

“And if I said yes?”

“I’d say you might be looking for a repeat of four years ago.”

“Oh! God no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…It’s not at all…”

“Relax.” Helga holds up her hand. “It was a joke.”

Helga reaches for the beer, taking it and using the end of her shirt to pop the cap. She looks up at Arnold, trying to catch his eye but he was too busy looking somewhere not in her direction. She sighs loudly, and begins chugging the beer as fast as humanly possible.

“Uhh…”

Helga holds up a finger to pause any of Arnold’s protests. It takes her another five seconds to finish the beer and slams the bottle down.

“There. That’s going to be the last awkward moment for tonight or so help me, I will be giving you two shiners and a broken arm.”

“Fine by me.” Arnold chuckled.

“Where’d everybody go?” Stinky had appeared once more unnoticed, placing a tray filled with drinks onto the table.

“Grabbin’ some grub.” Helga’s hand shot out for the nearest beer bottle, uncapping it like the previous one. She went to chug this one as well but a voice that sounded a lot like Phoebe’s whispered in the back of her head. _Pace yourself Helga._ So she only took a sip and brought it down.

“Well, that’s alright. Let me know if’n ya need anythin’ else ya heard?”

“Thanks Stinky.”

“Ya welcomed Arnold. But before I go, Helga if I may?”

Helga looked over at the beak nosed burnette, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m hoping ya don’t mind me sayin’ but you’re looking rather lovely tonight. Now don’t go thinkin’ on account of me lookin’ for tips or nothin’ cuz it ain’t like that. I just want ta let ya know, I hardly recognize ya since last I saw you and must say, you look mighty purtty.”

Helga was glad she hadn’t been drinking during any of that because she’d have spit it all out onto the table and possibly Arnold. She searched her brain for the appropriate response until she came up with.

“Thanks Stinky? Uh… You’re not too bad yourself?” She smiled crookedly, attempting a somewhat familiar expression.

“No, _thank you_. If ya need anythin’, just holler.” Stinky winked, turning and walking away with a little more pep in his step than before.

“I think he likes you.”

“Shut up.”

Arnold laughed. Watching the exchange had been like watching a strange interaction between a goat and a crocodile. Was it to be eaten or would the croc just ignore it?

“Aw come on, Stinky’s a sweet guy.”

“Stinky is the name of a pet animal with a flatulence problem, not a perspective date. Besides, not interested.”

“Good.”

“What?”

“I meant…”

“I told you they’d get along just fine, not a spot of blood anywhere.”

“Of course dear, it was silly of me to have worried.”

* * *

 

“I officially hate you.”

“Why?”

“Why? Why? Really Feebs, why?!”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t have a nice time.”

“Nice? _Nice?_ I didn’t have a _nice_ time Phoebe, I had a goddamn awful, knock-out, down for the count…”

“Great time.”

“After like five beers.”

“So five’s the lucky number.” With one hand still on the wheel, Phoebe pulled out her Iphone to type the information into her memo pad.

“Forget it Phoebe.”

“ _Forgetting._ ” She chimed while erasing the data. “Helga, you laughed, a lot. You laughed at Gerald’s jokes and Arnold’s jokes and even Stinky’s jokes.”

“Listen, that one about the goat was hilarious. He should trademark it and sell it.”

“So there, aren’t you glad I forced you to hang out?” Phoebe slid her phone back into her pocket and replaced her hand on the wheel. It was three am according to the dashboard clock and they were heading back home.

“Mhhhhrmph” Helga grunted.

“I’m sorry what was that?”

“I said, _yeahokayiguess_ ”

“See.” Phoebe smiled, bringing her eyes back onto the road. The streets were pretty empty, only one or two cars here and there.

“Thanks Phoebe.”

“You’re welcomed Helga.”

She stared out the windshield, looking out at the empty road ahead. In about an intersection and two left turns they’d be home _._

_This isn’t Portland, it’s not the Sunnyside Apartment Complex on Broad st, it’s not a two-bedroom crap hole with hippies walking around asking me for donations to save-a-tree foundation. It’s Hillwood._

“I thought I’d never see you this happy again.”

Helga looked at her friend. In the dim lighting, Phoebe looked ten times smaller. Her black hair had become undone and was floating around in the soft breeze supplied by the opened window. She was smiling but there was sadness in her eyes that told her she couldn’t fully enjoy the moment. Helga was sure she could count the tears forming in her eyes.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t cry Phoebe. There’s nothing left to cry about.”

“Helga, you have yet to deal with this properly and I think you…”

“Think nothing about it! There is nothing to think or cry or talk about. Let it go Feebs.”

“Helga…”

“Helga nothing. I’m tired Feebs, you’re tired. We have a big empty house to start filling up and that’s gonna take time and money so let’s focus on that and not the past. Not on something that can neither be fixed nor dealt with anymore than it has already. I’ve let go; you should too.”

“But they were your _parents.”_ Phoebe choked out. There were tears rolling down her face now. She put the car in park, having found a spot directly in front of the house but still clutched at the steering wheel.

“They’re better parents dead then when they were alive!” Helga screamed, causing Phoebe to openly weep. “ I am not talking about this anymore Phoebe! Let’s get inside and into bed and NEVER speak of this again!”

“You cant just BURY IT like you buried your father Helga! You and I NEVER dealt with finding your mother’s body! Don’t you know I’ve been using the spare in Olga’s room this entire time!? I can’t go into the bathroom without seeing her body there!”

“She was MY mother Phoebe, MY mother and she fucking KILLED herself because she was UNHAPPY!!! We are not involved in any way other than we’re the ones who found the body, GET OVER IT!!!”

“But how can anyone get over something like that?! We were FOURTEEN HELGA!!!”

“And now we’re twenty-three. Cross that fucking bridge already!!!”

Helga clamped down, turning in her seat but not making a single move to get out the car. At some point during the yelling, Phoebe had finally let of the wheel but she too made no move to leave the car either.

“It’s not…it’s not about a bridge Helga. It’s about being okay with what happened.”

“I am okay.”

“That’s what you said…”

“Shut up Feebs.”

Helga opened the car door and got out of the parked vehicle. She made sure to slam the door behind her before she made her way to the front steps of the house. Not once did she bother to check if Phoebe had followed behind.


	2. I Wanna Be Sedated

“I see you’ve been published several times now. That’s quite impressive considering your age.”

Helga merely nodded. She clenched her hands together to relieve the need to scratch her sides. The dress suit she was wearing was one of Olga’s old ones and it was incredibly itchy despite having been thrown into the wash twice.

“And what would you say is the reason you are the best candidate for this job?”

Helga looked at the woman across the desk. She had curly red hair tumbling down onto her charcoal colored suit. If it wasn’t for the nameplate at the corner of the desk, Helga wouldn’t remember her name being Veronica Hitchins; Chief Editor of the Hillwood Gazzette.

“I am a passionate writer, I live for the written word and I’d take pleasure in any piece assigned to me and have it on your desk within deadline. I don’t believe in slacking.” Helga had rehearsed this response fifty times after getting a call from Gerald a week ago. _I should get a freaggin’ Emmy._

“I like you Ms. Pataki, you’ve got a lot of ambition and we need that here at the Gazzette, especially if we mean to stay afloat in the new era of Iphones and Internet. I want to see you Monday morning, 9am.” Hitchins stood up, extending her hand out to Helga. Smiling her best fake smile, she shook the woman’s hand.

* * *

“I told you I’d get it.”

“Oh but that’s wonderful Helga, I’m very happy. Let’s go out to celebrate. Somewhere nice.”

“You buyin?”

“Of course.”

“Then alright.”

“Good. I’ll just finish up here in the studio and meet you at home around five?”

“Alright, see ya then.”

Helga hangs up the phone, making note that she now had four hours to kill, and tosses it across the dashboard. She was currently in Phoebe’s eco-friendly sedan, her own carbon stomping pick-up in the shop until next week. Lending the side of her face to the wheel, she took a deep breath.

It’d been a rocky two weeks since the outing to Stinky’s. Phoebe had refused to speak with her for an entire three days but on the fourth, she appeared in her bedroom in the middle of the night with two cups of hot chocolate and a Ronnie Matthews CD.

They managed to pack up, store, and throw away everything that had been in Helga’s house before the move. Then began moving in a few things from Phoebe’s as well as the few things Helga brought with her from Portland. The current decorum was bare bones at best but it was getting there.

Helga spent most of the time telling herself things were going well. That soon she’d be settled and wouldn’t mind the painful familiarity of the peeling wallpaper and creaky floors.

Taking another deep breath, Helga sat up and caught her reflection in the rearview mirror. She frowned. It had been Phoebe’s idea to put makeup on and do her hair up, which only made Helga look like Olga. She reached up and released her hair, running her hands through to make sure all the pins fell out.

“Hey Helga.”

Looking out of window, Helga found Arnold smiling and approaching the car. Nine-year-old Helga’s heart stopped, nineteen-year-old Helga remembered to sit straight so that her breasts were more pronounced and twenty three year old Helga vaguely wondered if she had smudged any of her makeup.

“Foot…Arnold, what’s up?”

“Just giving Abner here a walk.” He pulled up the leash in his hand that led to the pig.

“That’s still alive?”

“Pot bellies have a life expectancy of at least twenty years. Abner here is twenty five.”

“Doesn’t look a day over ten.”

Arnold laughed loud and Helga felt like maybe she should get out car but beyond that she’d no clue what to do.

“You look nice.”

“Huh? Oh, the face paint? You’re lookin’ at the new columnist at the Hillwood Gazette.”

“Congratulations!” Arnold beamed. Even Abner made an approving noise. “You know what this means right?”

“I won’t have to resort to prostitution?”

“That,” Arnold smiles because this is Helga and only she could get away with that statement, “ and I’m buying you ice cream.”

“As if Football Head, I’m not five.”

“ I’ll make it a sundae with toppings?”

“You’re on.”

Helga didn’t bother hiding the smile on her face as she got out of the car and locked it. Now walking next to Arnold, she realized he was a lot taller than she remembered as her shoulders just missed his by an inch or two. They crossed the parking lot and made their way onto the sidewalk of Main Street.

“We’ll go to Eugene’s, he works this great little diner where the yogurt place used to be. He specializes in desserts and Sheena does all the cooking.”

“Saw that coming.”

“Yeah, I was in their wedding three years ago. It was a great ceremony on Elk Island.” Arnold sticks his hand into his back pocket, producing his wallet. Opening it, he reveals a slip for pictures. The first is of his grandparents, the second of himself and Gerald graduating and the third was a photo of a wedding party; Eugene and Sheena in the center.

“God, that’s so endearing I think I’m gonna spew.”

“Helga Pataki, ever the romantic.”

“Eh.” Helga shrugged. She offered a smile but looked away when Arnold returned it.

The tension between them had become less and less with every meeting. It had to or Helga would have gone bald from pulling out her hair every time she bumped into him or he came over the house to rewire the circuits or unclog a drain. She would never admit it out loud but besides Phoebe, Arnold actually made her feel stable.

“Just up here.”

Helga watched as Arnold jogged ahead of her and stopped in front of a fruit stall. Going to the nearest pole, he wrapped Abner’s leash around it.

“Hello Ms. Potts, would you mind if I left Abner here?”

“Of course not Sweetie.” The gentile woman behind the oranges replied.

“How much for these?” Arnold asked as he scooped up three apples, placing them in front of the pig who was more than happy to devour them.

“75 cents.”

“Keep the change Ms. Potts.” as he handed the woman a dollar. He turned back to Helga, casually slipping his arm into hers to lead the way into the diner. Normally Helga would protest but _hey, he is buyin’._

The diner looked as it did when they were still four graders except the window now read Eugene’s Dinner & Ice Cream. It wasn’t empty but it wasn’t too full as one or two patrons dotted the seats all around. They found a booth at the far end by the storefront window and sat across one another. A waitress appeared almost immediately after.

“Hey Arnold, how are you?” She was pretty in a girl next-door sort of way with her brown hair pulled up in a ponytail and eyes of the same color. Her skin was spattered generously with freckles.

“Doing well Darla.”

“I can see that.” The brown-eye girl looked over at Helga and smiled. “What can I get ya miss…”

“Pataki. And I’d like your biggest sundae with the works. ‘Cept peanuts, I hate to get them stuck in my crowns.”

“Sure thing Ms. Pataki, and you Arnold?”

“The usual, I’m trying to watch my weight.” Arnold pats what Helga could only assume is his imaginary beer gut.

“Oh Arnold, you sure are silly.” Darla shook her head, walking away from the two blondes.

“What was that about?”

“What was what?”

“ _Oh Arnold,_ you sure are silly.” Helga flipped her hair back and put on her best doe face, batting her eyelashes for extra measure.

“Don’t be mean, she’s just sweet.”

“Sweet on you more like.”

“Sounds to me like you’re a little jealous.”

“Oh, ho, ho, she’s just _sweet_ , remember?”

If Helga was perfectly honest with herself, she did feel a tinge of something in the pit of her stomach. It could very easily be indigestion.

“It’s only an observation.” Arnold raises his hands in defeat. “She is sweet as well as only fifteen years old.”

“Statutory rape not your scene then?”

“No Helga, it’s not. Besides,” Arnold pauses to lean forward, making sure to look around as if to check that no one is listening. “I’m already in love with someone.”

Helga was now certain she’d vomit. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Arnold moved back, “but the thing is, I don’t think she knows it. I mean, I never told her and I haven’t ever really given her any hints but well, there it is. I’m in love.”

“Chump.” It was a reflex. Years and years of maintaining an abrasive personality to keep away unwanted attention put her into autopilot, set to send a barrage of insults at Arnold but she didn’t. She wasn’t nine anymore. “Let no one who loves be called altogether unhappy.”

“Even _love_ unreturned has its rainbow.” Arnold supplies.

“Of course you’ve read _The Little Minister_.”

“Only because I found a copy of it years ago at the train station. Read it that same night.”

“That’s funny because I _lost_ my copy years ago at a train station.”

“So it might be your copy?”

“Maybe.” Helga shrugged. She wanted to step as far away as the previous topic as possible for fear of reverting to fourth grade Helga and spitting paper wads at Arnold. “Was there a pink HP on the inside of the back cover?”

The brilliant smile that worked its way across Arnold’s face could light up the tri-state area. “I can’t believe I never put it together. I must have stared at those initials for weeks before just giving up. Now I have an excuse to invite you over to the boarding house.”

“You mean I have to schlep all the way over there? For a book?”

It’s Arnold’s turn to shrug. “I’ve got a great sound system, video games, and a king size bed.”

“Arnold Shortman, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you are attempting to seduce me. In broad daylight with not a drop of alcohol in our systems.”

“Is it working?”

“A little.” Helga shrugs and opts to look away. The unsettling feeling in his stomach has become more pronounced and briefly she wonders if she took her beano at breakfast.

“Then can I ask you out? On a date.”

“Aren't you in love with someone?”

“She doesn’t have a clue.” There was something in the way Arnold said this that left Helga feeling like she was missing out on something stupidly obvious.

“Where to?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

“Fair enough.” Arnold shrugs and leans back onto his seat. “I’ll ask you again when you like surprises.”

* * *

“Helga?” Phoebe called out into the empty hallway. “I'm back. Sorry I’m late I got caught up when one of my students spilled a tray of paint…” Phoebe stopped, finally noticing the eerie silence of the house. It was only seven but the curtains worked well to hide any light from coming in. “ Helga?”

There was no answer.

Unsettled by the quiet, Phoebe rushed into the kitchen, switching on every light on the way. She made note that the automatic coffee maker was still on from this morning, no doubt Helga’s forgetfulness and there were some dirty dishes in the sink. This was the first time since she agreed to live with Helga, that she was alone in the house. Taking a deep breath she let that little bit of information sink in.

“It is only a house Phoebe,” she told herself. “Your house now. Yours and Helga’s.”

Phoebe was seven the first time she had seen the Pataki kitchen. It was after school and Helga had demanded Phoebe come with her to go over plans to rid the third graders out of the sand box. She’d be courteous and demure when greeting the Pataki parents and found their erratically different personalities fascinating. Nonetheless, that visit became the first of many throughout the years.           

Not wanting to disturb the quiet, Phoebe reached into the sink and turned the faucet just enough for a silent stream of water to cascade onto the plate and pan coated with bacon grease. She made a mental note to look into getting a dishwasher. When she was done, she dried the dishes with a towel conveniently off to the side. She dried and dried and breathed in deeply because the silence was becoming suffocating. She did not want to panic. She did not _need_ to panic. Nothing was wrong. Only the dark feelings of knowing her best friend’s mother died just down the hall.

_Ding-Dong_

“Kuso!” Phoebe screeched, dropping the frying pan straight onto her foot. She closed her eyes and counted to five before opening them again. Reaching down, she picked up the fallen pan and saw no lasting damage. Although her foot felt otherwise.

_Ding-dong_

“Coming!” She called out, putting the pan onto the kitchen counter and heading into the main hall. Catching her reflection in the hallway mirror she realized there was a smudge of red paint across her right cheek. She wiped at it with her hand and opened the door with the other.

“Hey baby.” Gerald stood in the doorway, hands in his pocket and smiling.

“Gerald! I thought you were staying late tonight?”

“Yeah but Skip offered to finish up the research for me.”

“Skip?”

“He’s one of the new interns.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah so I figured we could, you know…” Gerald trails off as he approaches Phoebe, his hands slowly winding themselves around her waist, bringing her close to him. Before she can protest, he’s kissing her lips; soft at first but pressing himself full against her.

“Oh Crimney! I told ya Feebs, ya put a sock on the door.”

A beet red Phoebe turns around and watches as Helga comes down the stairs. She is wearing a Ramones t-shirt and the infamous ripped jeans with her wet hair sticking to the sides of her face. “I didn’t think you were home.”

“That’s apparent.” Helga deadpans. “Anyway, I’m out so you two can do whatever but not on any of the good furniture.”

“Oh but I was going to take you out…”

“You’ll owe me Feebs.” Helga holds her hands up to stop any further protests and reaches the end of the hall where her keys and jacket hang waiting to be plucked.

“Where are you going?”

“Just out.”

“Oh. Well, be safe.”

“Yeah, you too, that goes for you too Geraldo.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Later.”

Helga slams the door shut, never having cared for the proper etiquette on how to close doors.

* * *

It wasn’t winter yet but the crisp breeze that happened through Helga’s jacket made her instantly regret not having dried her hair before leaving. The streets light would turn on soon and the cars would lessen and the noises would lull but that didn’t stop her from feeling. Helga hadn’t taken any of her anxiety medication since Bob’s funeral and she was starting to feel it. Feel the screams in the back of her throat, feel the cracking in the joints of her fingers from clenching and unclenching, feeling like all she wanted to do was explode into a million fleshy wet pieces of Helga meat. _But I ain’t, not anytime soon. This is my fresh start, this is my second chance and I am freaggin’ peaches, I just need some air. Maybe some beer with that air._

She turned the corner and found herself on the block where Stinky’s bar would be at the end. She took smooth strides, one foot in front of the other and breathed in the cold air. She could do this. She had this. She walked right into another person.

“Watch where you’re goin!”

“Watch where I’m going? _Watch where I am going?!_ I’m the one that just got thrown to the ground like a bag of yesterday's oh my god, you’re Helga Pataki.” On the concrete sidewalk was a thin reed of a man with a mop of brown hair in a mustard yellow sweater. His glasses were askew and his cheeks pink from the excursion. All around him, papers scattered from the now opened briefcase he'd been carrying.

“Brainy?!”

“ I don’t go by that moniker anymore. My name is Rupert Albright.” Rupert gave an indignant sniff, shuffling papers back into his briefcase. "Will you help me?"

"Yeah, sure." Helga unabashedly stares at the man as she picks stray papers here and there. His hair though messy is luscious chestnut; his skin flawless, and the ever-present slump in his posture gone. She hands him the last paper and gives him a hand to stand back up.

"Thank you." He smiles; showing off what Helga deems then and there the _straightest pair of chompers ever_. "I don't know whether to be offended by your shameless leering or take it as a compliment."

"Sorry." Helga shakes her head. " Nice to see you Bra...Rupert."

"It has always been a pleasure to lay my eyes on you Helga. It seems time has been kind to both of us, you more so." Rupert states flatly, tucking his briefcase under his arm. “I did hear you were back in town.”

“Yeah, moved back into the old place.” She was still staring but she just couldn’t stop. _Brainy? Brainy?! You gotta be pullin’ my leg with this one?! This guy’s a Calvin Klein model not the wheezy kid who stalked me._

“Ah yes, my condolences Helga.” He bows his head in a gesture Helga assumes is meant to be empathetic.

“Thanks. It’s…whatever.” She puts her hands inside her jacket pockets, already bored with the topic.

“ I would suspect such an outlook from you. May I ask a favor of you?”

“Shoot.”

“Have a drink with me. I just finished up grading several inexplicably terrible papers from my students and could do with a refresher and company.”

“I…”

“Of course if you have more pressing matters to attend to, I couldn’t bare to stop you.”

On the one hand, Helga did not want company. On the other hand, Rupert was baffling enough to pique her interest. And on the third, freakishly mutated hand growing out of her spine, she was already planning on drinking away the anxiety, why not do it with someone who might make her conscious of which is the fifth beer and which is the fifteenth.

“Sure.”


	3. Gimmie, Gimmie

"And then he says, it was a marsupial!"

Helga snorts so hard she feels the beer bubbles in her sinuses but doesn't care because this is the eighth joke in a row from Rupert and she just can't believe the kid turned out alright.

He's laughing with her, his thigh touching her knee as they sit next to each other at the bar.

"Aw man," she wipes her eye "what a geek."

"Indubitably." Rupert smiles, turning in his seat to fully face her. "So Helga, now that I have dazzled you with my charming misadventures as a college professor, what have you been doing since last Hillwood saw you?"

"Nothing near as exciting. Funeral. Writing. Moving. Just got hired at the Gazzette today."

"This calls for a celebration then." Turning to the barkeep at the other end, Rupert calls out. "Two shots of your finest."

"You sure you can handle it? You've been nursing the one beer all night."

"I'll have you know that I can drink the surilest of truck drivers under the table but when one is enraptured by a beautiful woman such as yourself, one loses their desire to imbed anything but your lovely gaze."

"Hol-lee crap Casanova, you're laying it on thicker than tar here."

"I'll stop." Rupert sits back in his stool, he'd been inching closer and closer until then.

"Did I say stop?" Helga raises her brow.

"You didn't." He smiles and leans back in, leaving very little room between them, their knees touching and faces inches apart. "Go out with me."

"What are we doing now?"

"Just talking, having a few drinks." He smiles.

"You paying?"

"Old fashion are we?"

"I'm only a feminist on Fridays. You can carry my jacket too."

"I would be honored." Rupert takes her hands into his own and leans further into Helga. She feels herself sway and somewhere far away she hears the soft thud of two shot glasses against the bar. Rupert's hands are warm, not clammy like she had always assumed they'd be.

She's closing her eyes and wondering vaguely if the beer hadn't made her breath sour but instead of a kiss, she feels hands wrap themselves around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, I really want to but..." she opens her eyes to find that Rupert is now standing in front of her, his face flushed. "You're a little drunk."

"Afraid you'd be taking advantage of me?" Helga leans into him to place her face against the mustard yellow sweater. It was softer than anything she could have ever imagined and smelled of liquor, cologne, and something that had to be intrinsic to him.

"Yes."

"You wouldn't be the first." Helga mumbles into the fabric. It's dawns on her that maybe she had drunken too much, that maybe she had said way too much for "have a drink with me" situation but she can't be bothered at the moment. Rupert's sweater is soft, his hands are warm against her shoulders, and Hillwood has never felt more lonely.

"Let me take you home, I promise not to come up for coffee."

"You're saving yourself, I make the worst brew in all of Portland."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay.


	4. I'll Ask Again

"Fuck me."

Those are Helga's first words the next morning when her mouth feels like sandpaper and the sun is burning through her curtains, scorching her still closed eyelids.

"You should really install some blinds." She hears a voice say softly, then a small thud. It's not Pheobe and that only forces her eyes open and into a sitting position in bed.

"Shortman, what are you doing here at this ungoldy hour?"

"Pataki, it's almost noon." He deadpans. He's standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame in a white tee and jeans with more paint stains than visible fabric. There's a small toolbox by his feet and it dawns on Helga that today they had planned to remove and replace all the lights on the second floor.

"Yeah but it's damn near the middle of the night in China." She rips off her sheets and cringes at the sight of her jeans from the night before still on her body. In fact, she wore almost everything except for her tshirt which she must of switched out for the much softer tank top she wore now.

"Give me like, ten minutes and a redbull and I'll be right with ya." She waves dismissively in Arnold's direction as she makes her way out of the room and down the hall into the bathroom.

"There's a fresh pot of coffee downstairs with your name on it!" She hears Arnold call out when she shuts the door.

She grumbles a thanks and heads to the sink. _Oh Crimney, I look like I got run over by a milk truck_. Helga stares horrified at her own reflection. Her hair was out pass her shoulder with frizz and her eyes bloodshot, her skin sunken. She looked like death warmed over and then some.

_And that's what Arnold just witnessed, he must be running out the door as we speak._ She shuts her eyes and lets out a deep sigh. _Moving right along._

She goes through her morning absolutions in much the same way she always does. Slow and with only the intent to look human afterwards.

"I took out all the hallway lights. I wanted to wait for you to start in on the rooms."

Helga looks up from her half empty mug of coffee and manages a small smile up at Arnold. "Thanks."

"Rough night?" He asks as he takes a seat across from her.

"Not at all." She smiles into her coffee mug. "I just drank a little more than I should've"

"It happens." Arnold shrugs and looks away from her." Helga?"

"Yeah Arnold?"

"Are you...are you seeing anybody?"

"Well unless you're fucking imaginary, I'm seeing you right..."

"You know what I mean."

Helga pauses to stare at him. "What's it to you?"

"I'm curious? Who did you go out drinking with?"

"Who said I was out with someone, could've just been me, Jack, John, and Jose."

Arnold laughs despite himself. "Just wondering, you got a goofy look on your face when I asked about last night. Thought maybe you met someone nice." He shrugs his shoulders but refuses to look away and Helga is floored.

_Does it bother you football head? Are you jealous? Or are you just being a bleeding heart about this and worried I had a random hook up at a bar?_ "I bumped into Brain...Rupert and we had a couple drinks and caught up."

"Nothing else?"

"What's it to you Magnum?"

"Are you free tonight?"

"What?"

"Are you free, tonight? I'd like to take you out. On a date. If you're interested that is." Arnold was looking down at his feet so Helga openly stare with her mouth wide open.

_So maybe I'm still asleep. Let's roll with it. I'll eventually wake up, I knew this coffee was too good._   

" Sure. I'll go on a date with you Football head. As long as you got enough cash to cover it cause I am not washing dishes with you again."

"Deal." Arnold smiles. "And if I remember correctly, it was your fault we had to do those dishes."

"Exactly why you're paying." Helga smiles but hides it behind her coffee mug. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress specifically for my beloved whom asked to see the couple who never got to be together once and for all. Critiques are welcomed.


End file.
